My Dearest Friends and Confidant(e)s,
I have some distressing news. Mum sprayed me on the bum with the hose. What, you may be asking yourselves, was the motive behind this egregious assault on my person?
It all started several weeks ago, when we acquired a new neighbor lady. This neighbor lady brought with her a ridiculous animal, which Mum claims is called a “German shepherd”. This “German shepherd”, I ascertained while peering through a crack in the wooden fence, has a ludicrously long snout. I’m surprised he hasn’t got it wedged in a knothole or a can or something. His deformity aside, he seems to be innocuous enough, and I pay him little attention.
The day before yesterday, I discovered that the German shepherd (whom I have dubbed “Fritz”) has a Boston terrier cousin called Coco Chanel, and Coco Chanel has come for a four-week visit while her mum travels. I hate Coco Chanel like poison. I know, I know — It’s hard to believe that someone as tolerant and nurturing as myself could feel such animosity, but she really is vile. She stands on the other side of the fence all day and calls me names. Yesterday morning at precisely 5:30, Coco Chanel and Fritz (who is clearly a follower) stood at the fence not five feet from Mum and Dad’s bedroom, and yelled at the top of their lungs for a good forty-five minutes. Ever helpful, I yelled back, telling them that they should be quiet because everyone was sleeping. Mum and Dad were less impressed with my thoughtfulness than you might think. I don’t know why I bother.
Yesterday, every time I went outside, I found myself at the fence with Coco Chanel on the other side shouting obscenities like a drunken trollop. I, of course, tried to teach by example. As you know, I am the embodiment of decorum and am famous for my diplomacy, so I have no idea how I got that splinter in my tongue. Unfortunately, Heidi decided to fight fire with fire, and started yelling back. I thought that Heidi should stay out of it and stick to tasks that she is better suited for, like licking her own feet, so I punched her and we got into a big fight. Then, during the fifth or sixth encounter at the fence, it happened. In retrospect, I think that Mum must have been been calling me for quite some time. She couldn’t reach me because there is a hedge along the inside of the fence, which I, due to my diminutive size and impressive ninja skills, can easily pass underneath. Mum, on the other hand, tends to get stuck with her hair tangled in the branches. Anyway, as I said, Mum may have been calling me, but of course I couldn’t hear her because of Coco Chanel’s big mouth and the blood rushing in my ears. The next thing I knew, a jet of cold water hit me smack-dab in the caboose. I’m ashamed to say I leapt about two feet in the air, and fled.
While my rump will eventually dry, I may never fully recover from the shock and humiliation. I am sure you are all feeling righteous indignation on my behalf right now, but I urge calm. Violence solves nothing. Today, to offset the traumatic events of yesterday, I plan to work quietly on the porch blankie. As you can see, it is coming along nicely.